Vietnam, 2024.

Chasing a Dream: A Journey with Steve McCurry.

Decades ago, while visiting Steve McCurry’s website, I noticed a section about workshops with him. Right away, I started dreaming and imagining myself participating in the workshop. But back then, it stayed in the field of dreams. 

Fast forward to 2019, I was thinking about traveling and improving my photography skills and that memory resurfaced. A quick search, and there it was: a workshop with him in Myanmar! The downside? It was much more expensive than I remembered.

But that workshop really stuck with me and, for weeks, I debated whether I should spend that much money and if I even had the skills to enroll in a workshop with THE MAN himself.

As the meme says, every time I think I deserve something, I end up spending too much, eating too much, or drinking too much. And that couldn’t be more accurate! In one of those dangerous moments of “I work my ass off, so I deserve it,” I decided to go for it. I contacted the travel agency and made the first payment to secure my spot.

Then, 2020 arrived, and with it, the pandemic. The trip was scheduled for March, and, of course, it had to be postponed indefinitely.

When things started to return to normal, I received an email from the travel agency informing me that the political situation in Myanmar had become unstable again, and the workshop was being relocated to Thailand.

I couldn’t believe it! I had already been to Thailand, and I didn’t want to spend that kind of money to go somewhere I had already visited. I told the company how I felt and asked them to keep my deposit for the next available workshop.

In 2024, here we go again: another email, offering the same workshop. I contacted them right away and asked to use my deposit to secure my spot. A few months later, the same thing happened—the workshop was now being moved to Vietnam.

This time, I decided to go. Sure, I also had been to Vietnam before, but who could say no to another round of delicious Vietnamese food?

To be quite honest, the moment I put my feet in Vietnam I was a bundle of nerves. Besides the fact that I was going to meet him, I was also insecure about my skills in photography. Crossing my mind were things like: what is the level of the other participants? Are the other participants nice or unbearable? 

I arrived in Hanoi on a Sunday around midday, and the workshop was set to begin only on Monday at 6 PM. Since some of us were already there, we were invited to have a simple dinner near the hotel to start getting to know each other. Steve would be joining us as well.

Near the hotel, there was a large lake where many Vietnamese people gathered to exercise, dance, and engage in various outdoor activities. I spent the afternoon walking around the lake. I’m used to seeing people walking, running, and playing sports, but their way of exercising was different. Some were dancing , while others simply repeated specific movements, as if they had been told, “You need to move your body,” and were following that instruction quite literally.

Over the next few days, we all followed Steve there, trying to capture a good photo of them in action. For me, it was a little overkill going every morning: we ended up taking thousands of pictures of these fitness dancers! And to this day, I look back at these pictures and think, “what the fuck?” Sorting through all of them has become a dark cloud following me around, I still haven’t gotten around it! 

The Day I Met Steve.

And finally, the long-awaited moment had arrived: I was going to meet Steve.

I was in the lobby meeting the others when the elevator doors opened. There he was — in person! He didn’t seem entirely comfortable with everyone looking at him, but he tried to appear at ease.

After the introductions, we headed to the restaurant — a very traditional and simple place serving one of those humble yet delicious bowls of pho.

Dinner went well, and I found out that some of them had already met at a previous workshop in Thailand. Since there wasn’t enough space for a single table, we had to split up, and I didn’t get to talk to most of the group that night.

The next day, we were supposed to meet at 6 PM for a nice dinner and a lecture by Steve about his photos in Vietnam. So, I spent the day by myself walking around the neighborhood near the hotel. I think I just switched to automatic mode, and before I realized it, I had been walking all day long.  Of course, I happily stopped for another meal — after all, I was in the country of my favorite cuisine.

Vietnamese food really took me by surprise. Judging by appearance alone, I’d never expect it to taste so incredibly good. It often looks like a bunch of watery soups and broths, but don’t be fooled — they’re amazing! Seasoned with a variety of spices, sometimes mixing things like chicken and fish in the same dish, it’s a festival of flavors — completely different from Western cuisine and absolutely fantastic.

Having Steve give a lecture to such a small group was an unforgettable experience. He presented his iconic photos—some taken in Vietnam—while sharing the context and stories behind each image. It was truly fascinating.

To wrap up the first night, the organizer explained that the group would be divided into three teams to ensure everyone had quality time with Steve. Each day, he would accompany a different group on their photográphic journey.

Chaos, Doubt, and a Turning Point.

My team consisted of me, a Canadian couple, and a guy from India. On the first day, we were supposed to leave the hotel early in the morning and head to the hat market. At the scheduled time, everyone was in the hotel lobby—except for the driver and the van. He had some kind of mechanical issue, maybe a flat tire—I’m not sure anymore. To make things worse, it was pouring rain.

After a colossal delay, we finally made it to the market. I had already been feeling anxious but (now / by that point) I was a mess. The market was crowded, with people moving in all directions—some already leaving. Everyone was wearing plastic rain covers and masks. How was I supposed to capture portraits or street photos when all I could see were covered faces? And bodies for that matter. It looked like a bunch of formless ghosts wandering around.

On the first day, my team was joined by K, Steve’s assistant in Asia. My anxiety was so obvious that he started helping me right away. The whole scene was a mess: rain, mud, masks… I looked around and couldn’t see anything even close to what I had imagined my photos would look like.

And it got worse—because I needed to present my photos that night, in front of the whole group, for Steve to review. One thought echoed in my mind: What am I doing here?

I’m the kind of person who doesn’t back down easily. When things get tough and I feel like giving up, I usually try to push through. And that’s exactly what happened that night. When I got back to the hotel, I didn’t have a single photo I liked. I seriously considered skipping the selection process altogether.

But the Catia in me didn’t let that happen – I sat down and did it anyway.

Of course, Steve didn’t like the photos either. It wasn’t exactly a proud moment. But something important happened: for the first time, I heard feedback that still helps me today:
“Too tight.”
“Darken it!”
“The background is too busy” (or maybe his word was “polluted?”)

Those comments, combined with what I learned from K and Christian, slowly started to click. By the end of the workshop, I had moments when I could see real approval — and even admiration — on people’s faces as they looked at my photos.

So much so that Christian — who was both a photographer and the owner of the travel agency — said in a review meeting that my improvement was clearly noticeable throughout the workshop.

Crashing a Wedding Party!

Although it wasn’t my first time in Vietnam, it didn’t feel like I was revisiting the same place. The déjà vu only kicked in when I saw the endless stream of scooters and tasted that unforgettable food again.

This time, we spent a few days visiting villages near Hanoi, places I had never been before. Some of these villages specialize in just one craft, like noodles, soy sauce, incense sticks, rice paper for traditional dishes, and more. The goal was to photograph locals going about their daily routines. Basically, we wandered around capturing whatever caught our eye.

In general, Vietnamese people are incredibly friendly and don’t seem to mind being photographed, which made everything even better! One day, while randomly exploring a village, we noticed something going on in a house just a few meters ahead. Curious, we walked over to check it out—only to realize we had stumbled upon a wedding party.

It was this long open corridor full of people, wearing suits and traditional dresses. I don’t know if it was a house or a venue, but it was clearly not big enough for everyone packed inside.

While I was still trying to figure out what was going on, I saw the Canadian in our group, dressed in street clothes, walking straight into the crowd, already crashing the party! I remember thinking, “Of course he did.” He was always the spirited, extroverted one, jumping head first into whatever opportunity that came along. We would always be astonished by his tenacity but would quickly follow his lead as he would often open the door for the rest of us to take advantage of the moment.

Somehow, I wasn’t surprised by the fact that nobody seemed to care as this stranger walked straight into their wedding. You could see people looking but they were not upset, so we all followed along.

The place was draped in blue and white, even the flowers matched perfectly! I remember seeing a table with what looked like offerings, similar to those I’d seen in temples, but bigger and more elaborate. At the top, there were images full of symbolism, which, after a bit of research, seemed to represent marital bliss. The whole setup was surrounded by vibrant reds and gold accents—just like in the temples—along with fruits and an abundance of flowers. And funny enough, I don’t even recall seeing a wedding cake!

We smiled, took photos, and slowly made our way toward the back of the place, and all we got in return were more smiles. Nobody seemed to mind our presence or the cameras. I noticed many guests were dressed in their best clothes, and I even saw a man wearing a military uniform. 

Some people looked a bit self-conscious when faced with a huge lens pointed at them, like a machine gun, but it was obvious their discomfort came from shyness, not annoyance.

At the end of it all, we were even handed candy by some of the guests. Not a bad outcome for an uninvited visit!

Disrupting the Military Parade.

Another day, in Hanoi, we were pulling up to the Temple of Literature when the Canadian suddenly started yelling for the bus to stop. He had spotted something out the window—an entire military formation lining up on the sidewalk for a parade.

We all burst out laughing as he kept shouting, “Stop! Stop!” but the driver did not give a single shit, only pulling over a few meters further down. The Canadian was fuming, convinced we’d missed the perfect shot.

But as we stepped off the bus, he was silenced by an even better view. The whole formation stood in perfect alignment right in front of us. We all whipped out our cameras like machine guns and started firing off shots. It only took a few seconds for the officer in charge to order us to stop. He was clearly not thrilled with us so we backed off. 

I was naturally a little tense with the situation and barely noticed the two tall supermodels standing next to us, waiting for instructions. As we are making a plan on how to use the models, we hear Canadian’s camera clicking away, as he’s sneaking photos of the formation: I wasn’t sure whether I should laugh or run (Vietnam is in a dictatorship after all). 

Suddenly, he crouches down with the model and sneaks her into the middle of the formation of young men who couldn’t keep it together. She was stunning – and the soldiers couldn’t stop staring at her. The whole scene felt too surreal, and almost too funny to be real. There they were, all in dark green uniforms, and there she was, in a bright yellow traditional Vietnamese dress. Like a burst of light in the middle of the darkness. “We’re all getting arrested anyways,” I thought, “I might as well get some photos!” And guess what? The photos from that completely unexpected moment turned out to be some of the best we took.

Dog as the main dish.

Markets are a feast for the eyes, especially for street photographers: people selling all kinds of goods and interacting with the community. There’s always something unexpected to see, sometimes even downright bizarre.

Like dogs being sold as food.

Yes, you read that right. We were wandering through one of these markets when we saw it: a roasted dog on display.

I had heard the stories about people eating dogs, but I had never come across anything that could actually bring those stories to life.

I looked closely, trying to confirm if the tail, snout, and overall shape really matched what I feared—man’s best friend.

No doubt about it. It was. 

I was horrified. And even though Steve has traveled a lot and seen all kinds of things in this strange world, I could tell he was just as uncomfortable looking at that scene. Apparently, it’s a dish eaten on a special occasion.

The woman selling the roasted dog didn’t seem particularly friendly, so we took a few discreet photos and moved on.

On another day, we saw a similar scene: a single roasted dog laying on a stool in front of a house. Instead of cooling pies in the window, apparently they cool dogs. Once again, I couldn’t just walk past without stopping to take it all in and, of course, capturing the moment with my camera. Inside the house, a man was near the doorway, cleaning the room. He didn’t look especially pleased to be observed either. I wonder if they could sense our tension and judgment?

If there had been any doubt if this was a common practice, it vanished when we passed through another street market and stumbled upon several stalls openly selling roasted dogs. This time, there were so many that the smell hung heavily in the air. It was overwhelming.

We took a lot of photos, but at some point, the stench made me physically nauseous. I had to ask our guide to get me out of there.

It’s funny how the people who see nothing wrong with eating dogs are often the first to ask people like me: “But you eat cows. What’s wrong with eating dogs?”

And honestly, the answer is as simple as the question: I don’t have a cow living in my house!

Moments with Steve: A Lesson in Patience

I didn’t get what was the big deal about that place. Steve had become captivated by this  old communist neighborhood filled with grey apartment blocks and simple, plain architecture—completely different from the rest of Hanoi. I don’t know what it was,  but he saw something special there and kept coming back throughout the week at different times of the day, with all the teams.

One visit was fine, but my group ended up returning there three times and I was starting to get frustrated. If it was a mind-blowing place, I would understand, but this gray, bland place? I kept thinking of all the amazing places we could have been going and there we were again.

But it was there that I saw Steve do something I had read about in one of his interviews.

He has a famous photo of a boy caught mid-air with both feet off the ground, running through the blue streets of Chefchaouen in a narrow-winding passageway full of red handprints. I love that picture. He explained that he captured that shot by discovering the location, seeing its potential, and returning over and over, waiting for that perfect moment. When it happened, he worked his magic.

When we were in the communist neighborhood, we spent hours in a narrow passageway trying to take a good shot of someone walking by. I remembered what I had read about that photo of Chefchaouen. Who would have thought I would end up participating in his method of capturing that perfect shot?

Sometimes, we say things in an interview because it sounds nice, but Steve wasn’t lying – when he finds a place with potential, he doesn’t give up.

A Prank in the Spotlight.

As we were walking around, later that day, through the communist alleys, I recognized a place from one of the nightly photo reviews. Marco, a second-time attendant, had shown a great photo of a silhouetted man, entering a dark passageway. I mentioned to Steve that this was the exact same place that Marco had taken his photo. Immediately, he suggested we should play a prank on Marco. I didn’t see that coming!

Steve proposed that I take a picture exactly like Marco’s and insert it into the middle of my selection for the evening review. He would act as if it were the first time he’d seen the photo and shower me with compliments.

We had the driver pose as the person in the original photo and I took a few shots in portrait orientation, just as Marco had done. “No, take it in landscape,” Steve snapped as he mumbled about Instagram and people obsessing with portrait mode. He was the boss, so I went with it and finished the shoot.

Later, I edited the photo in Lightroom, to get it as close to Marco’s as possible, and placed it in the middle of my selection. I handed the pictures to the coordinator, mentioning that Steve asked me to put in an extra photo today, he laughed as if he knew what was happening, “that can’t be good.”

When Steve arrived at the hotel restaurant, I showed him the final result on my phone, and he said it was perfect, even complimenting me on my Lightroom skills.

Later, we’re all sitting down, watching the review. Steve’s sitting off to the side, going through the photos of the day, projected on the wall, making a few comments on each one. He gets to my photo and suddenly stands up, enthusiastically, “What a fantastic photo! Great composition, lighting, color” he went on and on. We’re all sitting there, stunned into silence. You could feel the disorientation in the room, wondering: Is she really doing that? Did she copy someone else’s photo and get credit for it?

I looked at Marco’s face and saw pure shock, his eyes wide open and his mouth frozen, as if he was about to shout but had the sound blocked in his throat.

Then Steve finally explained the prank, and everyone burst into laughter. The color was coming back to Marco’s face and he started breathing again, saying he couldn’t believe his eyes.

P.S. in the end, Marco’s photo turned out to be portrait orientation!

With Steve Where Bourdain met Obama.

We were on our way to the restaurant for lunch when the guide made a thrilling announcement: we’d be eating at the very place where Anthony Bourdain had that famous interview with Barack Obama! I was beyond excited. I had always wanted to visit that spot — and now I was going with Steve! What a fantastic combination: standing where one of my idols once had a historic conversation, together with another one of my idols.

The place was absolutely packed. I remember starting up the stairs, and it felt like we’d never see an empty table – it was floor after floor of full tables – I lost count after the third floor — it just kept going. 

When we finally arrived at our table, Steve asked the guide why, in a city like Hanoi, full of amazing restaurants, they had picked that one. Apparently, he hadn’t caught the guide’s earlier explanation in the van. I jumped in, “This is where Bourdain interviewed Obama!” The guide added that the table was still there. I couldn’t believe it! Of course, I asked to see it. Steve had a look of disbelief, almost annoyed, like, “really…we’re here because of that?”

The food was fantastic — I still think they do some kind of magic with the ingredients. It looks so simple, yet the flavors are perfectly balanced with spices that feel like they were made for each other. 

On our way out, Steve lit up – he spotted an elevator that we didn’t see on the way in, and was about to get in when he turned back and saw me heading for the stairs. “I’m going to see the table,” I said. He laughed and got out of the elevator. I teased him: “Oh, so now you want to see the table too!?” He just kept laughing.

To my absolute surprise, the table and two benches were enclosed in an acrylic case, under a portrait of Obama and Anthony Bourdain. It looked like a shrine – a bit surreal, even. I was almost a bit uncomfortable like, “who the hell had this idea?!” Like, am I supposed to get on my knees and pray?

I asked the guide to take a picture of me next to it. Then, Steve asked for one too — he wanted to send it to his wife. We ended up taking the corniest photo together as well.

Needless to say, I absolutely love this photo.

No Filter, No Regrets

By the end of this trip, I had:

– Crashed a wedding,

– Interrupted a military parade,

– Stared in disbelief at a fully roasted dog,

– And somehow managed to learn something about photography.

All while trying to take photos that wouldn’t embarrass me in front of Steve McCurry.

Thinking about it now, one question comes to mind:

WTF was I thinking when I signed up for this workshop?

I don’t regret it for a second. Once again, that old quote turned out to be true: Ignorance is bliss. 

What started as a dream — learning from one of the greatest photographers of our time — turned into a series of unpredictable, hilarious, and occasionally awkward episodes that no amount of planning (or camera gear) could have prepared me for.

I didn’t find the perfect shot…

But I did learn that sometimes the best stories happen when you’re out of focus, slightly lost, mildly panicking — and still pressing the shutter.

#noregrets #nofilters